Geek, and Ye Shall Find
by astronomyjunkie
Summary: Lester Morely, rabid roleplayer, begins blurring the lines between fantasy and reality, much to his older brother Alexander's dismay.


Chapter One

Night was falling.

The setting sun hovered near the jagged edges of the Griffintooth Mountains, shivering like a gold coin at the bottom of a shallow stream. The elongated shadows cast by its dying glow stretched away from the foreboding peaks, engulfing the surrounding wilderness in a misty twilight. Gnarled oaks stood watch over the crumbling ruins of what had once been a majestic watchtower, and an eerie cry drifted up from somewhere deep amongst the trees.

In a small clearing near the base of a steep, protective cliff, an unusual company of travelers had gathered around a flickering campfire. Each was armed with a variety of deadly-looking weapons. Firelight glinted on chain mail and sword hilts, and an impressive crossbow lay propped against a tree within easy reach of its owner.

The leader of the company was a tall wood-elf, his slender frame clad in a forest-green traveling cloak and tunic. His lank brown hair hung about his stern, chiseled face, and his dark eyes were grave as he studied his three companions. Rising to his feet and commanding their attention, the elf cleared his throat and reminded them of the severity of their position.

"Time is of the essence," he said, his voice calm yet urgent. "You_ must_ locate the Omnipotent Orb of Bah-zoot before it falls into the hands of the Dark Lord."

There was no reply except for a loud grunt issuing from the direction of a particularly stocky dwarf who sat hunkered on a log opposite the elf.

"Hmph," the dwarf grunted again, folding his stubby arms across his broad chest. "And what do yeh propose?"

"That is not for me to decide," said the elf. "You know I can't help you in this."

"Well, then, what does our apathetic miracle man have to say about it?" the dwarf suggested, turning to the silent, pointy-hatted figure who was sitting some distance from the rest of the travelers. "It's about time you contributed a word or two, isn't it?"

"Hmmm," the wizard yawned, barely glancing up from the pages of the heavy tome he was busy deciphering. "Hmmm. No."

The dwarf seemed to be making a point of ignoring to the fourth member of his company, a young ranger with an enormous sword at his belt who looked barely able to contain himself. Finally realizing the dwarf had somehow overlooked his own vast reservoir of wisdom, he decided to offer it voluntarily.

"I've got it!" he cried, jumping to his feet.

"I didn't ask you." The dwarf scowled.

The ranger didn't seem to notice. "Let's go to the village!" he said, his face glowing with enthusiasm. "Maybe we can find a scribe or someone who can interpret the inscription on this ring I found."

The dwarf let out an audible groan and the elf was rolling his eyes in frustration. Only the wizard remained oblivious to the suggestion, utterly absorbed as he was in his book.

"Orcsbane," the dwarf snapped impatiently, "ferget the bloomin' ring. It 'as absolutely nothin' to do with our mission!"

"But, Rumpkin, what if it's magical?" the ranger argued. "It might turn out to be really useful."

"We don't know that."

"Well, we would if only—hey, Mythovar!"

The wizard looked up grudgingly from his book and let out a petulant sigh. "Now what?" he complained loudly.

"Why don't you use your powers to detect the magic in this ring?"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" the wizard replied, his tone exasperated. "I don't have time for your silly game anymore. I'm busy."

"It'll only take a moment." Orcsbane glanced back at Rumpkin, who was glaring doubtfully at him from beneath his busy eyebrows. "It's magical," the ranger asserted. "Wait and see."

"Ah don't care either way," huffed the dwarf. "Ah just want to get out of 'ere."

Orcsbane chose to ignore this comment. "Please, Mythovar?" he begged. From the direction of the forest, a squirrel chattered.

"Oh, fine," the wizard said. He made an irritated gesture towards the ring in the ranger's outstretched hand and muttered something indiscernible under his breath.

There was a blinding flash of white light, and then it was over.

"Well?" the ranger prompted.

"It's magical," the wizard affirmed in a bored voice.

Orcsbane spun around and thrust the ring under the dwarf's nose. "Ha-ha!" he yelled triumphantly. "Take that, you miserable munchkin!"

"Get that ruddy thing away from me!" the dwarf barked, trying to move away. He slipped backwards over his log and landed in the dirt. His armor clattered and his short legs kicked the air as he struggled to get upright, swearing profusely.

"People!" the elf shouted. "People, enough! It's time for you to make a decision. Sit down, Orcsbane."

"Okay," the ranger agreed, amicably slipping the ring into his pocket as he reseated himself. "Now that we're sure the ring's magical, our first item of business is to find out what it does.

"Absolutely not!" Rumpkin spluttered, heaving himself off the ground and clambering quickly back to position. "Last time we went on one of yer stupid side-quests, I got 'et!" The dwarf's eyes were practically glowing crimson with pure outrage. He might have looked intimidating, if he hadn't been covered with the twigs and pine needles he'd collected during his recent acquaintance with the forest floor.

"In that case," said Orcsbane, "I'll just have to go without you."

The dwarf blinked in complete disbelief. "But the road to the village is crawling with orcs!" he bellowed.

Orcsbane shrugged. "So? I'll waste them with my crossbow."

"Aye," the dwarf replied sarcastically. "When daisies sprout out of me beard."

"That can be arranged," retorted Orcsbane, jabbing his finger at the enraged dwarf. "Grow, daisies! Grow!"

There was a confused silence, as if no one could quite grasp what had just happened. Even the elf, with his eternally composed facial features, appeared momentarily stunned. He blinked a few times and his mouth twitched from side to side, finally managing to find his tongue.

"Um," he protested lamely. "Uh, you can't do that."

"Anyone can do it; it's a basic spell!" argued Orcsbane.

"Well, it's certainly not one I've ever heard of!" Rumpkin yelled back. His face was as red as a lobster.

"Check the handbook if you don't believe me. Or did you forget to bring yours? _Again._"

That was the last straw for Rumpkin. "I'm challenging you to a duel!" he roared, hefting his battle axe.

"I'd like to see you try, runt!" Orcsbane jumped to his feet and whipped his sword from its scabbard.

This was just too much of the elf to take. "Guys!" he shouted. "Guys! You're messing everything up! You're supposed to be allies!"

Mythovar finally looked up from his book, looking extremely disgruntled. "Hey, Les—uh, Orcsbane. You'd better keep it down if you know what I mean."

"Huh? said Orcsbane, distracted. "Why should we?"

"Because—"

Mythovar's sentence was cut short by a tremendous roar. "ARRRGGHHH! I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE! CAN'T YOU IDIOTS KNOCK IT OFF?!"

Forgetting all about his spat with Rumpkin, the ranger spun around to face his opponent and found himself staring into a familiar set of infuriated bloodshot eyes. The face they belonged to made Rumpkin's expression seem rather mild and good-natured by comparison. The thing was massive, as always; its hulking form towered over the company like a mountain. Saliva dripped from its yellow fangs, and its skin was like old tree bark. One gnarled fist gripped an enormous iron mace that seemed to grow larger with every intrusion.

The elf and the dwarf blanched at the mere sight of it. Orcsbane sighed.

The troll was one of Orcsbane's oldest, most relentless enemies. It had been lurking about the edges of his adventures for as long as he could remember, just waiting for the opportunity to jump out and wreck everything. The ranger couldn't understand it. What did the troll have against him anyway? It was like its primary goal in life was to suck the magic out of everything. Well, he wasn't going to let it happen today. Not if he could help it.

"Oh, uh, we're sorry," the elf was saying, "we were just—"

"Don't worry," the ranger interrupted. "I'll handle this." He turned and faced the troll again. "Back, fell beast, or face the wrath of Orcsbane, Half-Elven Ranger of Vengeance!"

The troll was not impressed. "I'm trying to talk to my girlfriend and I can't even hear myself think!" it yelled.

"Well, we were here first, so too bad. You can either take your big mace and go back to your cave and leave the four of us alone, or you can stay here and suffer the consequences."

"What consequences?" jeered the Troll.

"The consequences of interrupting something that is far, far beyond the comprehension of your insignificant little pea-brain mind!"

The Troll's face registered complete disgust. "You can't be serious," it muttered, rolling its eyes.

"You asked for it," said the ranger, shrugging. "I hope you know what you're going up against."

The ranger reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a small, oddly shaped object about the size of an acorn. There was a tiny number painted on each of its twenty sides.

"What're you gonna do with that thing?" the Troll scoffed. "Throw it at me?"

The ranger didn't reply. Biting his lip in concentration, he held the object gently in his cupped hand and began to shake it so that it bounced back and forth between his thumb and fingers. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he tossed it into the air . . .

Alexander groaned inside as the die hit the table in front of him. Sometimes Lester just didn't know when to quit. He looked around him and was dismayed to see the other guys had taken Lester's lead and had chosen to play along with him rather than have their game interrupted.

"Whoo-hoo!" Lester whooped. "Twenty points! Double damage!"

Eric and Robby let out a cheer.

Clarence, who in reality was wielding nothing more than a half-eaten microwave burrito and not the "big mace" that Lester claimed he'd been threatening them with, threw up his hands in frustration. "You said you were going to leave an hour ago!" he whined.

"You can't say anything, Clarence," Lester informed him. "I cut your head off."

Clarence's only response was to hurl his burrito straight towards the coffee table around which Lester and his friends were seated. Lukewarm beans and gaming paraphernalia scattered everywhere as he stormed out of the living room.

"Who would've thought a decapitated troll capable of wreaking so much havoc?" said Lester, his face and shirt front plastered with burrito shrapnel.

Robby wondered, "do we have to roll for that?"

"Let me check the book," Eric replied. "Hey Mythovar, how many hit points did you have again?"

Alexander, who had migrated to the couch some time previously in an effort to dissociate himself from the game, looked up and sighed. "Look, you guys," he said. "It's way past two o'clock. I said I'd play with you for an hour. Now I've _really got to study._"

"But you've been studying the whole time we've been sitting here!" Lester pointed out.

"I couldn't concentrate."

"Come on, Ale—I mean Mythovar! We _need_ you!"

Alex could see that he wasn't going to get anything done with the way things were going. The food court at the Taggart Student Center would be open for another hour or so; maybe he could find some peace and quiet there, if he hurried. He began loading his Physics text books into his backpack.

Lester's shoulders slumped in disappointment.

Alexander sighed. Lester was no stranger to rejection, and he couldn't help feeling sorry for the kid. Compared to his two brothers, the puny little teenager couldn't have seemed more hopeless.

Alexander was eighteen years old and had recently graduated from high school at the top of his class. He'd earned a scholarship to Utah State and would be starting college in just a couple of months. Those around him couldn't figure out why he spent so much time studying; the guy was already a walking encyclopedia. He seemed to know everything about, well, everything.

Alexander had a hard time explaining it himself; nevertheless, he was completely devoted to education and had already purchased all the books needed for the upcoming semester. He tried telling everyone that he was just getting a jump start on what was sure to be a challenging school year, but in reality it boiled down to the simple fact that Alexander liked to read. He was a rabid bookworm, and that was okay. Sure, everyone thought he was a huge, huge nerd, but they knew he'd go on to bigger and better things.

Then there was the middle brother, Clarence. Clarence was cranky and sarcastic and never very much fun to be around, but he had already established his own computer repair business and was known throughout the neighborhood as a technological genius. He also specialized in building custom PCs. His own computer—one of several that he possessed, actually—had been immodestly dubbed "The Colossus" and was the biggest, fastest, flashiest-looking machine for miles around. It had dual high-res monitors; it was crammed with RAM; it had a lightening-quick processor and T-1 internet hookups. For Clarence, the word "gigabyte" was practically archaic. He measured his storage in _terabytes._ All the other hackers in town burned with envy whenever they beheld it in all its high-tech glory.

But at fifteen years old, Lester didn't seem to have much going for him. He had just finished up his freshman year of high school, but he was so scrawny and childish that he could have easily passed for a ten-year-old. His grades were mediocre at best; his social life virtually non-existent. Even the guys he role-played with didn't really understand him. None of them took the game as seriously as he did, often resulting in ridiculous squabbles over minor technicalities, like the one Alexander had just witnessed moments prior to Clarence's big blow-up. Also demonstrated within the past few minutes was that at times Lester seemed barely able to tell the difference between the real world and the fantasy world inhabited by his alter-ego, Orcsbane the Half-Elven Ranger of Vengeance, or whatever it was he insisted on calling himself these days.

Alexander was probably the only person with enough will and patience to even attempt to identify with his younger brother. That didn't mean he didn't get aggravated at times, but Alex felt a kind of empathy towards Lester that other people couldn't seem to find. All his life, Lester had never quite been able to measure up, had always fallen short of the mark. Role-playing was the one area where he felt some degree of control over his life, and Alexander thought this was probably one of the main reasons he spent so much of his time pretending to be someone else.

But Alexander didn't have time to be someone else—not with classes coming up. He'd humored the kid long enough for one day, and as much as he cared for Lester, he honestly felt no interest whatsoever in learning his younger brother's favorite pastime.

"Look—I'm sorry," he said, acknowledging the melancholy expression on Lester's face. "I'm really sorry. I just don't think role-playing's my thing. It's boring."

Lester was horror-struck. "What did you say?!"

"I said it's boring and I'd rather do something different."

"Like what?" Lester's small body went slack and his dark eyes bulged in disbelief under the thick plastic rims of his glasses. "Homework?"

"I don't have time for it, Les."

"What are we supposed to do with your character!?"

"I don't know," Alexander replied as he continued packing up his things. "Can't your game-master just keep playing him without me?"

"Yeah?" Eric butted in. "And just how do you suggest I do that?"

Alexander winced at the arrogance in Eric's voice. He was beginning to dislike the guy more and more every day. As game-master, Eric demanded a level of respect that Alex personally didn't feel he deserved, and his persistent self-importance was getting tiresome.

Alexander tried to be reasonable. "You know, you just take the part of any characters that don't have a role-player attached to them. Like you were doing with the elf."

Eric snorted in disbelief. "my _wood_-elf," he corrected, "was necessary to the plot in order to provide the vital information and leadership necessary to direct a successful campaign." He looked distastefully over Alex's character sheet and sneered, "Do I look like some kind of babysitting service for first-level non-player character wizards?"

"Well, then why don't you just say I'm not there any more." Alex was exasperated.

"How are we supposed to explain that?" Lester griped. "You can't just disappear in a puff of smoke."

"Yeah, you're not nearly that advanced," Robby chimed in. "You'll have to work up to like, a level _six _at least, to do something like that. Besides, I need your character to help me get even with Lester's character."

Ugh. Robby was such a dork. He was almost as bad as Eric.

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Alex replied. He stood up and shouldered his backpack.

"Fine," said Eric. "Leave." He tossed his die on the table and examined the results. "You just got eaten by a Soul-Sucking Shadow Dragon of Doom. Hope you're happy!"

From somewhere down the hallway and behind a closed door, Clarence was apparently still experiencing some difficulty in blocking out the sounds of magic and mayhem. "SHUT UP!" he screamed. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"

There was a loud crashing sound.

Alexander sighed. "Look," he said condescendingly. "I'm sorry to ruin all the fun, but I'm the oldest, and I think it would be best if you said goodbye to your friends for now."

"What?!"

"Clarence is about to blow a gasket, and he's having a hard enough time as it is trying to keep his girlfriend impressed."

"That guy has a girlfriend?" Robby was flabbergasted. "You mean, for real?"

"That's what he said, didn't he?" said Alex, somewhat defensively. "Weren't you listening to a word he was saying?"

"I thought he was talking about his computer."

"Now there's a scary thought." Eric let out a conceited snicker, which Alexander did his best to ignore.

"Well, he does, and for your information, she's beautiful, and he has as much a right to talk to her in peace and quiet as you do to play your game. And anyway," he continued, now directing his admonition towards Lester, "it's your turn to do the dishes and you know how annoyed Mom gets when you forget."

"Oh." Lester looked sulky and kicked at the carpet with his shoe. "Oh, _fine_." He turned to his friends and said, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," Eric said. "At _my_ house. Where there's no one to bug us or throw their weight around." He glared reproachfully at Alex.

"Fine by me," said Alexander.

Eric and Robby gathered their things together and shuffled outside, murmuring their goodbyes while Lester gloomily watched them leave.

The door clicked shut and Alexander let out a sigh. "Lester—" he started.

"Orcsbane!" Lester corrected him.

"We're not playing anymore," Alex pointed out.

"Well, I am!"

Alexander tried to ignore this. "Listen," he said. "I know role-playing is important to you, but—you need to start thinking about your future. You need to start thinking about priorities."

"You're the one who needs to check his priorities!" Lester blurted. "The fate of the universe rests in our hands and you just sit there, in the middle of the biggest campaign ever, doing homework for classes that haven't even started yet! _What's wrong with you?!_"

"I'm not saying you should give it up or anything," said Alexander kindly. "I'm sure role-playing has its place. All I want is for you try living in reality once in a while, _Lester_. Is that so much to ask?"

Lester stuck out his lower lip and scowled. "You're just lucky I'm Lawful Good, because Half-Elven Rangers of Vengeance don't take kindly to deserters. I'm ten levels above you and I have twice the number of hit points, so if I were you I'd show some respect! And stop calling me Lester!"

Resigned, Alexander looked on as his younger brother began to twirl the fake sword he'd recently gotten into the habit of carrying around. He tossed it clumsily from hand to hand in a rather haphazard attempt to intimidate Alex with a wide range of impressive fighting skills that he didn't actually possess. Lester's footwork was as sloppy as his swordsmanship, and it wasn't long before the ridiculous display came screeching to a halt.

"Oops."

The loud crunch brought Clarence charging down the hallway like an angry bull.

"LESTER! THAT BETTER NOT BE WHAT IT SOUNDED LIKE!"

Lester tried to pull his foot out of the remnants of Clarence's laptop, but it was too late. Clarence took one look at him and started screaming at the top of his voice.

"YOU—JUST LOOK—_LOOK_ AT WHAT YOU DID TO MY LAPTOP YOU LITTLE TWERP!"

"It's just your spare!" Lester dodged Clarence just in time as his older brother tried to throttle him. "You have another one! You don't need it anymore!"

"I DON'T NEED _YOU _ANYMORE!"

"You shouldn't have left it on the floor!" Lester darted sideways as Clarence tried to snatch him with his salami-like fingers. "It was an accident!" he squeaked.

"_YOU _ARE AN ACCIDENT!"

Alexander reached out and grabbed Clarence's arm before he could make another swipe at Lester. "That's enough," he said. "Just calm down. Clarence, he didn't mean it."

"HE RUINED IT!" Clarence yelled. "ALEX, HE RUINED MY LAPTOP!"

"It was an accident. And he's right, you shouldn't have left it on the floor."

"It was recharging!"

"You could have done that in your room."

"There wasn't a spare outlet!"

"Well, that's not Lester's fault, now is it?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

"It was an old computer," Alex reminded him. "You said yourself it was a piece of junk. Is it really worth killing him over?"

Clarence was beginning to calm down a little. "Okay," he said grudgingly. "I won't kill him. Happy?"

Breathing heavily, he knelt on the floor and examined the laptop. Part of the keyboard was broken off and the monitor had a long crack running across it.

"Can you fix it?" Lester inquired, peering out from behind the piano.

"No, but if you don't shut up, I'll fix you."

"Clarence—" Alexander started.

"Can it, Alex. I said I wouldn't kill him. That's all you're going to get from me."

Clarence kicked the broken computer into a corner and stalked across the living room. "Tell Mom I went to Radio Shack," he grunted, slamming the door behind him.

Whenever Clarence was in a particularly bad mood, he always went to Radio Shack to look at the electronics. Alexander knew he'd be gone for at least two hours. He looked over at Lester, who was still half-crouched behind the piano.

"Shouldn't you be doing the dishes right now?" he said.

Lester knew he wasn't in a position to argue. "Okay," he replied, "but only because you have enough charisma to calm an angry troll."


End file.
